


Meditation Space

by astraev



Category: StarTrek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-21
Updated: 2005-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astraev/pseuds/astraev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We really got to stop meeting like this," Trip said, standing again watching T'Pol meditate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Construct

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : Rabid plot bunny that would not let me stop writing, despite laundry and needing to read "Love Letters for All Occasions" (Hey, maybe that was the inspiration.) First two parts are what I wrote it for; the last part is for some closure. AU, as this is over a couple of weeks, and we can all guess that Trip will not be gone from Enterprise for more than like, two episodes and a total of like, four days.

* * *

He looked down at her sitting form and wondered how exactly she was sitting. He looked around and wondered how exactly he was standing, for that matter. The endless white space had no light source, but was as bright as the noon in the south, and he cast no shadow. He looked at his feet and his mind thought he may be standing on nothing, though his body said he was on firm ground.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said. She opened her large brown eyes framed by long lashes and looked up at him.

"Trip," she said softly. The silence hung in the warm white room. She spoke again: "I am trying to meditate." Her head moved back and forth in her particular gesture of frustration as she spoke, a physical signifier of condensation. She had regained her hardened demeanor.

"Well, I'm trying to calm down myself," said Trip, in his own defense. "Long shift." He lifted his chin in the air and dared her to tell him to leave.

"This is not the first time you have intruded upon my meditations."

"Most times I'm quiet," he said. "Sometimes you don't know I'm here."

"I always know you're here," said T'Pol. Her eyebrow rose. He should have known that he could not pull one over on her. They fell back into silence.

"You know, that's one selection that I never managed to choose for Movie Night." Trip grasped at topics, trying to find something to keep her from stopping her meditation.

"What is that?" she said.

"Well, there was a whole genre of twentieth and early twenty-first century movies called science fiction…"

"I don't see how science could not be considered true," she said, her eyebrow raised and her disbelief being worn like a cloak.

"Hold on, T'Pol, let me explain." Trip put his hands on his hips to let her know he meant business. "There was one movie that was wildly popular, in which there was a war between humans and machines, and it got to the point where humans had been enslaved by machines and were being grown mechanically in fields."

"Is this part of the human pathos surrounding automation as well as genetic manipulation?" she asked. She was ever the scientists, even in her subconscious.

"Suppose so, must be deep rooted in our societies." He shrugged. "Well, the machines used a computer program of the late twentieth century to make humans believe that they weren't enslaved… and some escaped that program."

"It seems that humans fancy themselves always able to overcome impossible odds."

"Well, yeah, they were fighting back and losing," said Trip, frowning. "People have to have their fantasies, I suppose… and you can't tell me that on Enterprise we didn't beat incredible odds."

"You are no longer on Enterprise. You will have to _beat the odds_ on Columbia."

Trip flinched, eyes closing and head turning away involuntarily. He recovered. "Guess I will." He paused. "To make a long story short the freedom fighters were able to reenter the machine's computer program, and before they did they always went into another program to gain items they would need in the program for freedom fighting… guns, and bombs and such." He paused, and she was listening intently, and did not even comment on the violence of humans. "Well, it was called 'The Construct' and it looked a lot like this." She didn't comment. Did he just tell a story to hear himself talk? He grasped at straws again, just happy to be in her presence, didn't want her to leave, didn't want to be called to duty… "Do you figure we could go anywhere we wanted; like they could get anything they wanted?"

"I have never tried," she acquiesced. "This was the form of meditation taught to me from childhood – the absence of everything but myself gave me great comfort and physical and mental stability."

"See, me, I would go to the beach or something. A little white noise, a little good sun, and I'd be all relaxed."

"I am not you, Commander Tucker."

"No. You're not, T'Pol."

"Commander T'Pol, we have a visitor off the port bow," said Jonathon's voice. T'Pol looked pointedly at Trip and vanished.

Trip let himself fall asleep.


	2. Construct

* * *

He looked down at her sitting form and wondered how exactly she was sitting. He looked around and wondered how exactly he was standing, for that matter. The endless white space had no light source, but was as bright as the noon in the south, and he cast no shadow. He looked at his feet and his mind thought he may be standing on nothing, though his body said he was on firm ground.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said. She opened her large brown eyes framed by long lashes and looked up at him.

"Trip," she said softly. The silence hung in the warm white room. She spoke again: "I am trying to meditate." Her head moved back and forth in her particular gesture of frustration as she spoke, a physical signifier of condensation. She had regained her hardened demeanor.

"Well, I'm trying to calm down myself," said Trip, in his own defense. "Long shift." He lifted his chin in the air and dared her to tell him to leave.

"This is not the first time you have intruded upon my meditations."

"Most times I'm quiet," he said. "Sometimes you don't know I'm here."

"I always know you're here," said T'Pol. Her eyebrow rose. He should have known that he could not pull one over on her. They fell back into silence.

"You know, that's one selection that I never managed to choose for Movie Night." Trip grasped at topics, trying to find something to keep her from stopping her meditation.

"What is that?" she said.

"Well, there was a whole genre of twentieth and early twenty-first century movies called science fiction…"

"I don't see how science could not be considered true," she said, her eyebrow raised and her disbelief being worn like a cloak.

"Hold on, T'Pol, let me explain." Trip put his hands on his hips to let her know he meant business. "There was one movie that was wildly popular, in which there was a war between humans and machines, and it got to the point where humans had been enslaved by machines and were being grown mechanically in fields."

"Is this part of the human pathos surrounding automation as well as genetic manipulation?" she asked. She was ever the scientists, even in her subconscious.

"Suppose so, must be deep rooted in our societies." He shrugged. "Well, the machines used a computer program of the late twentieth century to make humans believe that they weren't enslaved… and some escaped that program."

"It seems that humans fancy themselves always able to overcome impossible odds."

"Well, yeah, they were fighting back and losing," said Trip, frowning. "People have to have their fantasies, I suppose… and you can't tell me that on Enterprise we didn't beat incredible odds."

"You are no longer on Enterprise. You will have to _beat the odds_ on Columbia."

Trip flinched, eyes closing and head turning away involuntarily. He recovered. "Guess I will." He paused. "To make a long story short the freedom fighters were able to reenter the machine's computer program, and before they did they always went into another program to gain items they would need in the program for freedom fighting… guns, and bombs and such." He paused, and she was listening intently, and did not even comment on the violence of humans. "Well, it was called 'The Construct' and it looked a lot like this." She didn't comment. Did he just tell a story to hear himself talk? He grasped at straws again, just happy to be in her presence, didn't want her to leave, didn't want to be called to duty… "Do you figure we could go anywhere we wanted; like they could get anything they wanted?"

"I have never tried," she acquiesced. "This was the form of meditation taught to me from childhood – the absence of everything but myself gave me great comfort and physical and mental stability."

"See, me, I would go to the beach or something. A little white noise, a little good sun, and I'd be all relaxed."

"I am not you, Commander Tucker."

"No. You're not, T'Pol."

"Commander T'Pol, we have a visitor off the port bow," said Jonathon's voice. T'Pol looked pointedly at Trip and vanished.

Trip let himself fall asleep.


	3. Together Ever After

"Why is this happening to us, if the only thing we know about it is a Vulcan legend!" He had come to know her schedule, though she was light years away. He knew when she would be meditating, when he could reach her, and he had not been wrong.

"I imagine you did some research into the Vulcan cultural database."

She was sitting as usual, he was standing, but their faces may have well had been as close together as possible. "You imagine! You imagine! Since when do Vulcans _imagine_? You didn't finish your little legend; your little legend says that your ancestors lost their own personalities as they merged into one!"

"They did not control their bond. They did not respect logic, and instead gave into passions."

"Humans are passionate beings, T'Pol! How do you expect me to embrace logic all the time?"

"I do not know," she admitted. "I am surprised you are able to keep this meditative state when you are so agitated."

Trip ran his hand through his hair and looked over his shoulder away from her. "I don't know either. I guess it's just force of will and needing to talk to you." He lifted his chin into the air, defying her.

"I do not wish to speak with you about these intimate things when you are not ready."

"Intimate? Oh, hell, T'Pol. Tell me what's going on."

"We are bonded. We share our thoughts and experiences, if we wish. That we are able to communicate over such vast distances, it suggests that this bond is permanent."

" _Permanent_? You and I barely can stay in the same room together!"

"We seem to have no problem sharing my meditation space."

"That's because we have to!"

"We do not _have_ to," T'Pol stated, and Trip imagined he could hear a bit of sadness in her voice. "You could cut off your end of the bond, ignore it, let it grow cold, but it will always be with you."

"Are you saying you want this bond?"

T'Pol said nothing.

"Your silences are what drove me to the Columbia!" Trip raged. He stopped and went pale.

"I always thought that you left because of me."

"Yeah, well, I did." His hand went through his hair and T'Pol couldn't help but wonder if his real hair was ruffled too.

"I would like you to come back."

"You really think I can? It's not that easy. This bond thing isn't that easy. Do you think being on the same ship would be easy?"

"No harder than what we are doing now, no more difficult than our relationship was before."

"Our relationship went sour when you got married to another man when I still loved you. And then again when you decided to dedicate your life to the pursuit of enlightenment!"

"The Kir'Shara has been most helpful in the description of these bonds."

Trip stepped back and put one finger over his mouth. He narrowed his eyes. "How long have you known what was going on?"

"Since the first time we touched."

And Trip could not speak.

"We are bonded, Trip. If we did not care for one another, this would not have happened. I am beginning to believe that this is not outside of Surak's teachings."

"Sure, your prophet deems it all right, so suddenly we can be together," Trip said bitterly.

"I believe a common idea amongst humans is that relationships take work. The Kir'Shara suggests the same."

"I can't just forgive you for closing me off."

"I am open to you now," said T'Pol. "And now you know this is not just a dream."

"Being with you always seemed like a dream." Trip said quietly. He didn't look into her eyes.

"I assure you, this is not a dream." T'Pol stood, for the first time since these visions had begun occurring. She extended her right index and middle fingers in an odd handshake. Trip looked at her extended hand.

"Is that the Vulcan version of kiss-and-make-up?"

"Not in so crude terms, but a Vulcan kiss an acceptable description."

Trip extended his own right hand in the same manner and touched his beloved. They stared into her eyes, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into a human kiss – and then they both believed everything may be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> * * *
> 
> A/N: Sorry that this was ill planned… I tried to keep it in character, but I don't know where that got me. I hope you enjoyed… I apologize for mistakes; I just wrote and posted without anyone but me and the spell check looking at it. Any con-crit that goes beyond "Hey, your spelling and grammar sucks. And you know nothing about Canon." is absolutely welcome. Thanks for reading!


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